The Executioner and His Victim
by purplelover188
Summary: Hundreds of years ago, Dorian Gray made a deal. He didn't give much thought about it until that day. The day he met Vanessa Ives.
1. You Are Different

**Author's Note: This chapter is loosely based on the second episode of the first season, The Seance, in which Vanessa Ives meets Dorian Gray for the first time. This chapter is inspired by it although the dialogues, though sometimes similar, will not be the same. This story came to my mind after thinking about how much Dorian Gray was detached from almost all the events of Penny Dreadful. I thought about how would it be if his story were more connected to Vanessa's and this came out. Enjoy!**

 _He knew it was her in an instant. It couldn't have been anyone else. Here stood Vanessa Ives. He knew exactly what he had to do. But what happens when the executioner falls in love with his victim?_

 **...**

Dorian Gray was bored, to say the least. The party was tedious. When you are alive for more then one hundred years, these type of thing tend to get a repetitive. That was why he always seeked new pleasures to experience in his immortal life. New things to do and new people to corrupt, new desires to fullfill and new temptations to yield to. He eyed to room to find something remotely interesting. Something to pull him out of this dullness and make his night more interesting. However his efforts were all in vain.

He gently took his ornate glass from the table on which it was resting and started roaming in the luxurious room. He didn't even look at all the women - and men - who were eyeing him in awe in face of his undeniable beauty. No, he didn't look at them. They were boring. Ordinary. Just ordinary people, fascinated by the beautiful face of his. Then he heard the sound of the heavy doors that led to the ballroom.

He didn't want to turn around to look at the newly arrived guest. It was just going to be another man or woman that doesn't worth his attention. But his curiousity got the better of him, maybe deep down he felt something. Maybe somehow he knew that it was that woman. He slowly turned his head in the direction of the recently opened door. There was a woman in front of it, she was looking better than all boring women in the room with her silky brown hair, eyes as green as freshly cut grass and skin so pale and soft to make gods jealous. She wasn't like anyone here, she was different. He knew it was her in an instant. It couldn't have been anyone else. Here stood Vanessa Ives. And, God, was she beautiful. But there was something in her more than her beauty that intrigued Dorian. He knew exactly what he had to do.

He approached her, steps slow but determined, a smile placed on his perfectly shaped lips. He took his time to arrive where she stood. And when he finally did he spoked in a calm but enchanting voice. "My name is Dorian Gray."

He didn't ask her name. He didn't need to. He knew exactly who she was. She told hers anyway. "Vanessa Ives."

 _Vanessa Ives._ He was indeed correct. But hearing her name from her own lips, it was different. The certainity was almost a relief. But it also meant burden. He kept his composure nonetheless.

"Miss. Ives." He gently bowed his head. "A pleasure to meet you."

"And you too, Mr. Gray," was the kind answer.

"I can't help but notice that you are different than the people here, Miss Ives."

"Different? How so?"

"You don't belong here. You aren't like these people who just waste their lives away with luxurious balls, fancy dinner parties and the trivial goal of gaining reputaition, flaunting their wealth and their place in society. No, you are not like them. Tell me, Miss Ives. Why are you here?"

"Why are _you_ here?" Instead of answering she directed the question back at him which caused him to pause for a slight second.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't belong either, Mr. Gray. You and I, we both are different. You tell me, why are you here?"

Dorian Gray just replied with a smile and grabbed another glass from the tray of one of the passing waiters. He extended his arm gently at the direction of Vanessa, allowing her to reach the glass.

"Your hands."

"What about my hands?" Vanessa asked, confused but intrigued about what this charming stranger was gonna say.

"You aren't wearing gloves. Every woman in this room is wearing gloves." His eyes gleamed in amusement at her confusion. He slowly raised his glass.

"To us, Miss. Ives. To being different."


	2. A Price to Pay

It was a week after and Vanessa Ives was thinking about the stranger she briefly talked that night. They hadn't seen or talked to each other since and she wasn't sure they even would again. But she knew she wanted to. Between all her troubles, trying to track down the creatures who had captured and imprisoned her best friend, she realized he had been on her mind constantly ever since that night of the party. It wasn't because he was beautiful, even though he was very beautiful, almost otherworldly, godlike, enough to make every man and woman fall for him. No, it wasn't because of his pretty face. There was something about him. Something in the way he spoke, in the way he carried himself, in the way he treated her. He was different, she knew that. Though she couldn't exactly pinpoint what was so different about him. He made her feel special, for the brief time they spoke to each other. He made her feel praised and valued because of her difference, instead of the usual weird looks of people and words whispered behind her back. Yes, she knew she would certainly want to see this handsome stranger again.

What she didn't knew was that handsome stranger was also thinking about her that very moment.

Sitting on his sofa in the grand living room with just a silk robe on, Dorian Gray didn't care about the other people in his house, also naked, making out with each other. His mind was elsewhere. Thinking about Vanessa Ives. He knew he should do something. Then why was he delaying it? Why did he invite all these people to his house to get his mind off of his woman who soon no longer would be his to think about. Whatever was the reason, it wasn't working. All his failed attempts to distract his mind from the thing he had to do, they were seeming rather foolish to him now. He had made a deal, fully aware of the consequences. At that time he wasn't bothered by what he would eventually had to do. But seeing her, it somehow hade things harder. Not that he was feeling sympathy or pity for this woman he had to condemn. These emotions were so far away from him now, he had no soul after all. But there was something about her that intrigued him, almost fascinated him. That was a rare thing for a man who had seen everything and experienced everything in his immortal lifetime. But still, he had to do what he had to do. It was the price he had to pay after all. He couldn't even imagine what would happen to him if he refused. Placing his glass gently on the small glass table beside the sofa, he tied his robe and got up. he walked towards the table on which layed parchement papers and a small bottle of black ink with a feathery quill next to it, not even paying the smallest amount of attention to the naked people calling his name. He sat on his chair, grabbed the quill between his slender fingers, dipped it into the ink and started to write:

 _Dear Miss Ives,_


End file.
